New Jerusalem
by TheLookin'Glass
Summary: They shall survive, for they have one another. To what extent will this sibling bond last? Will it strengthen throughout the betrayals and murder or crumble upon the weight of these persistent ghosts stacking ice bricks between them? "Can we do that, brother? Sister? Sick together no matter what?" Or is it too much to ask? (Mary Sue-free!) (Actual plot!)
1. Chapter 1

**You: Is this another Wolverine's Sister story?**

**Me: Yes, yes it is.**

A few minutes before the crazed gunman knocked down their doors, the manor house was calm enough that one would expect residents to be under the covers.

Judith's caretaker, Nettie, held up a dress with a petticoat the color of the savory cabbage in the gardens. Judy's nose immediately wrinkled as the clothing's scent of waste and urine wafted in to her face. The particular odor that became the prominent fuel of her distaste of gowns. Nettie, accustomed to her reaction, helped her squirm into it.

Elizabeth flipped her daughter's cowlicked hair over her shoulders as she studied the flaws of the garment. Judy knew she would have no problem with a solemn expression tomorrow, for the rough laces on the rectangular neckline itched and the wide hem would give her little mobility. She found it challenging to muster a genuine smile now, in such an uncomfortable position. The new ladies' fashions were growing more and more extravagant every year.

"Will James be in the portrait tomorrow?" Judy's twin brother was bedridden with fever, again, and she knew how fickle Elizabeth could be with their yearly family portrait.

Nettie nodded. "He should pull through the night."

Judy's eyes widened in panic, for that was not what she was implying. Judy was questioning the wan of her brother's skin, the recurrent cough that could interfere with the painting; not if he wouldn't survive. Jimmy must've been worse than she thought. She wanted to run to his chambers now, but what could she do that would make any difference? Jimmy already had the best healers in the land, and maybe even their reluctant playmate Victor to entertain him, albeit Victor would insist it Jimmy entertaining him.

So Judy kept her glum thoughts inward, a obliged to her mother's dismissive attitude towards the dress and ordered another.

Once the laces were untied and the gown was off, Elizabeth followed Nettie into the loo down the halls of the manor, wondering if it was too late in the night to call in a tailor. Judy lay on her inherited four poster, twisting the bedclothes around her arms and legs.

A loud banging thudded from behind her doors, and she sat up automatically, wincing at the volume. Their groundskeeper's, Thomas Logan's voice rang clear through her head, despite the space and doors between them. "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" it shouted.

Judy had been to many formals, some of which had been hosted in by her father in this manor house, and while meeting the suitors her father approved of financially, had deciphered the difference between drunken slurs of men and their sober tones. Thomas Logan's words were intoxicated, yet his tonality wasn't. Intrigued at what Victor's cruel father wanted with his mistress- it must have been an emergency- she decided she would be there when one of the servants opened the entrance doors- out of range of course. If he was, in fact, partway drunk.

Acknowledging the taboo of leaving her chambers in merely a corset, Judy quickly pulled her refreshingly comfortable night gown over her head before stumbling down the grand staircase.

At the base of the case, she found her mother. Elizabeth seemed calmer than Judy, and gestured for her daughter to stay put. She stopped at the seventh stair down.

At their mistress's nod, Anne and Caroline unlocked and pulled open the heavy wooden double doors, only to be knocked on their rears when the groundskeeper effortlessly shoved them apart. His eyes immediately locked on Elizabeth.

"They've had thirteen years," Thomas growled. "It's time."

Thomas, his stance stiff and one fist flexing and curling as if he couldn't decide what to do with them, frightened Judy and she felt vulnerable out in the open while the maids and keepers scattered. He also had a gun.

"Please," Elizabeth begged, "Later. Not now. Come back when you're sober."

"I am sober!" he snarled. He tried to pass.

Elizabeth stepped in his path. "I won't allow it."

Judy cried out when Thomas snatched her mother's elbow, and his eyes flicked to her, as if he hadn't noticed her there before. Judy immediately wished she stayed silent.

"Get off me!" Elizabeth tugged her arm in futile attempt.

"Let her go right now!" Like a true knight in shining armor Judy longed to have one day, her father glided down; one hand resting on the banister while the other bore its palm towards Thomas. "And put down the gun."

Thomas lowered the firearm, but didn't release his hold on it, or Judy's mother.

Victor crept down the stairs, following John's footsteps. Gaining some confidence by Victor's valor, Judy forced her paralyzed legs to move and followed close behind.

"There are things you don't know about your _wife_ and I." began Thomas, spitting out 'wife' bitterly.

"I know everything I need to." John shook his head slowly, but flickers of uncertainty crossed his features.

"Thom, no." Pleaded Elizabeth, no longer struggling against his hold.

"Let her go," John repeated. "And get off my property."

Judy realized what this meant. If Thomas was to leave, then surely he would take his son along with him. And then Judy would lose a friend.

"They must know what's going to happening to them!" Ignoring John, Thomas turned to Elizabeth, who shook her head, "I won't let you." she said.

"And never come back here!" John took steps toward the two, unable to refrain his anger any longer and was shouting.

Growling, Thomas turned his head and narrowed. "You can't-"

"I told you to never come back here!" roared John.

Thomas startled, his grip tightening on the gun, pulling the trigger. The bang that sounded nearly caused Judy to jump out of her skin, her head ringing long afterward. Her father was thrown back and onto the ground as the bullet met his flesh, muscle, lung. Thick black-maroon blood stained his frilly shirt, the sight sickening Judy so.

Someone is screaming, she thought vaguely, as if it wasn't her father and she was watching from afar.

Jimmy suddenly appeared on all fours by John's side. John gripped his robes. "James," he stuttered. His head rolled to its other side as he gazed at his mentally detached daughter. "J-"

And he was gone. Judy could smell it in the air; the coppery blood, the pungent scent of grief and regret, hear her father's last breath spent on her name. It was so horrible, she wanted to escape. She backed away, only stopping when she nearly tripped and realized her feet were moving on their own. Father couldn't be gone, she insisted. No, someone who stood so confident and strong can't die that quickly, at the hands he entrusted with the care of his property.

The screaming began again, except this time it was her brother, screaming in mental and physical pain as the death of his hero enclosed around him and long, sharp bone slid out between his knuckles.

And then Jimmy was running and Thomas was lifting the gun and Elizabeth was on the ground because the groundskeeper had pushed her there and Judy realized that Jimmy was going to die like her father when Thomas pulled the trigger and Jimmy would die the same way too.

Judy launched herself from the sidelines and knocked the gun from Thomas's hand just as he was firing, so the bullet went in another direction; through the wall.

She fell to the ground, knocking her elbow hard on the marble floors.

Jimmy's claws sunk into Thomas's chest so deep, his knuckles pressed into his stomach and the victim fell against the wall.

Thomas didn't scream or show any signs of pain or anything. "James. J-Judith." Judy tore her eyes from his wound and looked at his face; the bulging eyes and sweaty nose. "He wasn't your father."

Jimmy stared in horror at his claws, at his mother, then back to Thomas. Thomas's eyes turned glassy and his eyelids only dropped halfway before the life went out of his body and the scent of death intensified. Jimmy backed away, dropping Thomas as he did, realizing what this meant.

Judy couldn't look away from the corpse that was her biological father until she heard the words that put the weight of betrayal on her chest, although the words weren't directed to her:

"What are you?"

Hurt by his mother's words, rather than run to Elizabeth or to his room, Jimmy tore out the open doors, Victor following.

Lifting herself onto her shaky legs, Judy turned to hide back in her chambers, to wait it out and comfort Jimmy when he and Victor came back. If they came back. This thought alone made her stop in her tracks. If her brother- _brothers- _were to run away forever, Judy would inherit the farm and manor. No, her _husband _would inherit it. And without her lenient father, it was likely Elizabeth would pick for her. And if she knew her mother correctly, Elizabeth would force her to marry some suck-up lawyer. And then she would be forced to bare children- something she couldn't fathom- and care for her aging widowed mother.

Elizabeth not only betrayed John, but her brother as well. And if Jimmy and Victor weren't coming back to the manor to avoid the complications of murder, if she went with them, she could live her entire life free in… anywhere_ but _here. Of course, there were details to think over; how they would earn a living, clothes, a place to stay, but she knew Jimmy was an eager-to-please boy who would never force her into something she didn't want, and Victor didn't focus on anything but the present and survival.

Clearly, though, staying at the manor would be the easier path; to be taken care of and in return, loyalty and children.

James or Elizabeth? Jimmy or Mother? She would lose someone either way. Looking at her mother now, though, she could see herself turning into Elizabeth- hateful of change, fearful of love, obedient to her sons and husband- should she choose to stay. To leave, an adventure. If she left, she wouldn't have to fret about the future.

Before her conscious could convince her to stay, Judy turned on the balls of her bare feet and ran out into the cold autumn night, relishing the brief moment of freedom before sorrow and perhaps regret could trap her in its chilling clutches.

Judy wished she could run faster. She hadn't seen her brothers, but she could sense them, and she had their scent. She knew she was heading in the right direction, but just not fast enough. If she wasn't there soon, they would be gone and she would be alone, and miss her chance to be with them.

It wasn't her musings that set her off, but the barking dogs and extra footsteps behind her. Behind her, there was the baying of hound dogs on her trail, and Judy didn't have time to wonder how they found her so fast. Because the burning of her lungs and nose as well as the aching of her feet and toes suddenly lifted as the panic and adrenaline set in. She ran fast, exactly how she wanted, until she was practically flying, her toes just brushing the ground as the thumps of the footsteps behind her faded away.

She wasn't sure how to stop, or if she wanted to, but when her eyes and head lifted from their gaze on her feet, a tree root, or stone, stubbed her toe painfully and she knocked into something rough and soft. However, the force she brought was transferred to Victor who fell onto Jimmy, creating a dogpile with Judy as the cherry on top.

Poor Jimmy with a couple hundred pounds on his chest groaned in annoyance. Judy quickly scrambled off the two, running a hand through her hair and pulling out dead leaves as Victor yanked Jimmy to his feet.

"Don't you realize, Judy?"

Pleased when Victor didn't immediately order her to run back to the manor, she met the hard blue eyes identical to her own as her newfound brother spoke.

Victor put his left hand on Jimmy's shoulder, his right on Judy's. "We're brothers-"

"Sister." Judy's voice was hoarse after taking her breaths through her throat.

"And siblings protect each other." His grip on their shoulders tightened with every statement. "We have to be hard. Hard enough so that nothing can ever touch us."

Albeit Judy couldn't imagine being as cold as Victor had the potential to be, but she favored the idea of never feeling the pain of loss and betrayal again.

"I want to go home." Jimmy's voice shook.

"We can't!" Victor let out a breath. "We stick together no matter what."

_Stick together no matter what. _It was a relief, that Judy wouldn't have to worry about losing her siblings.

"And take care of anyone who gets in our way. Can you do that, Brother?" Jimmy nodded.

"Sister?"

Judy nodded as well.

Victor glanced over his shoulder, and Judy followed his line of sight. The glow of hunters' lanterns appeared from behind the trees, illuminating a man's articles of clothing; a hat, a heavy overcoat, a sweater. Judy could do with something warm. She wouldn't complain, though. If she wanted to be hard, then she had to start by ignoring the pinch of the nighttime breeze.

"They're coming." Victor observed, his tone cautiously lower. "Think you can keep up?"

Judy's eyes narrowed slightly, not fond of how belittled her gender and found herself determined to prove that she could run. Fast.

Victor seemed pleased at her resolution, and straightened.

They tuned to the opposite direction of their pursuers, careering away from everything that was familiar.

"Keep on running."

"Don't look back."

**Will this be continued? Well, uh, that's up to you. (Hint, review, wink)**


	2. Homing Pigeon

It was fall season, and therefore the nights longer. They'd run until they couldn't, and then run some more until they came across a grazing field. Knowing that this meant livestock, livestock meant farms and farms meant barns, they jumped the picket fence and crossed the field, feeling vulnerable without any trees to climb or hide behind.

The old barn looked well-cared for, through put to great use. They decided to spend the rest of the night in the horse stables, behind the stacks of stored hay in the back. It was much warmer and comfortable indoors, with the warm bodies of the giant animals.

"What if the farmer arrives before we wake?" asked Judy to Victor in a hushed whisper, shooting the stallion closest to Victor an apologetic look as his nostrils flared and his eyes rolled nervously.

"He won't." Victor brushed her off flippantly. He didn't seem tired at all and acted as if the only reason they were stopping was for Jimmy and Judy's benefit. Judy didn't feel at all somnolent, but Jimmy was asleep on his feet. "If he does," Victor added. "We'd know."

If the farmer opened the stable doors in the later morning, light would- should- wake them. If not, it wasn't very likely he'd look behind the hay bales. At least, that's what Judy thought. She wasn't very familiar with what the stable boys did in the mornings. She just rode the ponies in the evenings, and groomed them afterward on the occasion.

But Victor carried more years on his shoulders and therefore was very wise, so she shook off her doubts and scaled the ladder before her brothers. The rungs were wooden and pinched her palms with splinters. The moonlight through the skylight gave her just enough luminescence that when she splayed her fingers she could see each individual sliver of wood ejected out of her skin and the wound it created close almost instantaneously. She wondered how she never noticed this art before.

Brushing her hands together, she watched as Victor headed straight to the corner of the shelf and lay and curled up, clearly indicating that he didn't want company. Jimmy sluggishly brushed the strands of straw off his space before conking out. Judy put her body down on the hard surface and rolled onto her back. She closed her eyes, to no avail. She was too alert to sleep.

She focused on her breathing until her ears stopped ringing. Then on her heartbeat. When she could hear it clear as day, she concentrated her ears on her brothers' light even breaths.

Her eyes still refused to stay shut for long. And with this much time on her hands, her brain traveled off on its own accord.

Judy wondered what her mother was doing. If she was missing and worrying for her children, if she was regretting ever investing in so much for her daughter, or if she was horrified to have ever conceived to the monster Jimmy was.

And when Judy thought of home, her insides dropped until her throat tightened like it always did before she cried. She imagined herself reading a book on her desk or bed, and the image was so real until she opened her eyes to find herself in the surrounded by dried grass, heavy with disappointment. She wished for her father to make her tears disappear, or even her mother to scold her for crying in public. She yearned for her four-poster that smelt of her father after he tucked her in, listening to the purrs of her tabby cat she would sneak in bed to sleep with. The more she thought of these things, the more she longed for them, the more she compared her previous life to her present and the more she resented the ground she was attempting to sleep on.

_Just get through this, _she thought. _It'll get easier. Don't think negative. _It was hours, or minutes or seconds or all three before she realized she was just letting time pass and waiting for something. Then, she figured out what it was. Her subconsciousness was expecting to return home again, but she knew she wouldn't, not for a very long time at least.

It wasn't till the ends of the sky grew pink that her eyes finally grew heavy...

But seconds later, a startled yelp and a thud caused her to sit up before her lids were open. Her heart thudded against her sternum, chasing away the tiredness.

Victor was by her side in an instant, peeking over the edge of the ledge. A girl in linen rags and the sun-beaten completion of one who spends much time working outdoors was at the fallen ladder, rubbing her backside that took the brunt of the fall.

Judy turned and frantically shook her twin awake. "Wake up, Jimmy!" she hissed.

Too much time later, Jimmy finally pried open his eyes, and Judy forced him to sit up by the shoulders. Jimmy complained about the crick in his neck, with a stifled yawn, as if the events of the previous day hadn't occurred to him yet.

"There's someone down there!" Judy explained. She dragged a now wide-eyed Jimmy toward the ladder by the hand.

"What do we do?" he asked Victor.

Judy leaned over to take a glance below; searching for their way back to the stable floors before realizing the ladder was still lying on the floor- out of reach. And the girl was gone. "Where'd she go?"

"Probably to her parents." grunted Victor ruefully.

Jimmy eyed the solid ground below, bleaching. He never was fond of climbing trees like Judy, she recalled. "What will happen if we jump down?"

Victor rolled his eyes. "You'll break your legs." Outwardly, her brother was calm, but his shoulders were slightly hunched and his jaw was tight. "We'll have to wait. What's the worse they would do?"

_They could turn us in; Jimmy could be hanged for murder. _Judy couldn't fathom Jimmy _not _being a part of her life. It just wasn't possible, and was why Judy wasn't as worried about it as she was about whomever the girl went to fetch.

She smelt the man before heard the footsteps approach; the stale sweat, the animalistic musk of livestock and undertone sourness of anxiety. The footsteps were heavy; a light man wearing boots or an older, heavier man. "I know you're here!" his voice was deep, confident. "Show yourself."

She knew that the safer path was to surrender, do as the man (who was likely to be carrying some form of weaponry) says and run away when it was possible. And if opposed, fight their way through. Victor had fingernails that he once told her were especially challenging to cut, sometimes even lengthened at will and were exceptionally sharp; Jimmy had claws that could impale if worse came to worse; and Judy... well, the one more desperate always won the battle, no matter the size or the odds.

She wasn't sure where this thought came from, but she knew with all her being that it was true.

But another part of her, the one who she never noticed resting just below her subconsciousness awoken as she ran away from home the previous night urged her to do just as the man said; but instead of surrendering, attacking and claiming this territory as hers. No, this instinct wasn't as confident on maiming or killing as it wanted to snap and growl its dominance, prove the man he couldn't tell her what to do and expect her to oblige.

No, if she did the latter, it wouldn't end in a way she would like. Stifling it took effort, but manageable, like smothering the urge to yawn, she held herself still until the urge lessened and when it did, promised herself that she'd keep it under control.

"We would if we could, but we can't." Victor retorted with a sneer that the man couldn't see.

When the man walked in their line of sight, the sour scent of nervousness diminished considerably. In one hand connected to the rolled sleeve of a grey-white tunic held a gun, lowered when he realized the threat was just a trio of grubby children. Turning around, he called to the entrance of the structure, "Gertrude!"

Quick-paced footsteps scrambled over to the man, revealing an aged woman, her expression softening when her eyes set on the children. She smelt of pastries and soil, and already had beads of sweat on her hairline and nose, despite it being an early morning.

Gertrude shook her head at the man, an amused smile at her lips. "It seems as if Mabel was crying wolf again." she studied Judy and her brothers and they eyed her back. "I'd expect you haven't yet eaten breakfast." Without waiting for an answer, Gertrude hefted the ladder back up right, the man rushing over to assist her. "You can have last dinner's beef stew."

And the idea of steak suddenly sounded very, _very _enticing. Judy felt her stomach roar and ache with the mere thought.

But Victor balked suspiciously. "They could be trying trick us." he told them, in a voice low enough that the adults would hear. Said adults who were waiting patiently.

"But they have beef stew!" Victor rolled his eyes at his naïve sister, so she added, "How else are we going to find breakfast?"

Victor frowned. "We could catch it."

"You mean hunt? In the woods?"

Actually, Victor was thinking about stealing the farmer's chickens, but they could if they had to.

Lucky for Judy, Jimmy was hungry for steak as well. "What would they want with us, anyway? We don't have any money."

Victor was still hesitant. Judy thought he should be more trusting; he was so wary of everything all the time. "They could send us back home." he said.

"Then we won't tell them." insisted Judy, knowing they traveled at least a league or so, and that was far enough that the news of Thomas's murder by his child and their disappearance wouldn't reach this particular location for at least a couple days, right? "We'll just say that we ran away because..." she paused, not sure what they would say.

Victor grimaced, he was hungry, and he knew they wouldn't be able to escape if they tried; the man had a gun. Besides, if they had to hunt or steal livestock, it would take some time. And he wasn't all that fond of disappointing or letting those he was responsible for going unfed. "Okay," reluctant, "But we'll leave as soon as we're able to." And continue running, and never come back until they are absolutely sure they are no longer wanted.

Victor descended the ladder first, followed by Judy, then Jimmy.

"You can call me Gertrude," the woman said kindly, gently, as if she knew they would run away at the hint of a threat. "This is my husband, Samuel." she shook each of their hands, and had the courtesy not to rub it on her apron, as their hands weren't the cleanest.

There was silence, as if they were expecting them to say something. Victor caught the hint. "I'm- _William_." he said, thinking quickly. He gestured to Judy. "That's Mary, and-"

"I'm Logan." blurted Jimmy.

Gertrude nodded, oblivious, and indicated them follow her out of the horse stables. Judy took a deep breath once they were out, relieved at the fresh scent of wheat and soil rather than the pungent odor of horse.

Samuel muttered something about milking the cows, and went off in another direction as Gertrude led them across the crop field. Judy watched with mild as the workers bent low to the ground to harvest peas, wondering if they had to pick crops during the afternoon, and how sweltering it must be. She was also grateful that she was high enough in social rank not to have such a job, though she wasn't sure if she would need to farm later in life, to earn food and money.

"Why Logan?" Judy asked Jimmy real quiet, curious.

"I k-killed him." Jimmy mumbled back. "It would be respectful to honor his name, somehow."

Judy never liked the groundskeeper, and disliked him further when he betrayed John. She didn't really want to remember him, but respect for the dead was always important. What was more, Judy mentally scolded herself for being so selfish; she'd never once considered Jimmy's feeling on all this; he killed his own father, his flesh and blood. It must have been a tremendous weight on his chest, and all Judy could think about was the tiny one of betrayal on hers.

Jimmy was probably ashamed for his actions, and he had claws in his hands. He must've felt like a freak, a monster, an inferior. But he wasn't. He was Judy's brother.

Judy took his hand.

And if he decided he was, then she would be one too.

**If you find an incorrect detail about life in the eighteenth century, please feel free to give me the true ones. I did my research, but slip-ups are always possible. And if this story is getting predictable, mention that as well. **


	3. Fickle Chicken

Judy never liked her vegetables. When her courses started, she started to loathe them. Their bitterness was amplified to her weak taste buds, until she found trouble swallowing. She wasn't fond of sweet things either, except when she was ravenous. She liked salty foods; things she could sink her teeth into until all the juice gushed out in many different flavors. She liked hard things that she could crush with her jaws and feel the pride of dominance when the object gave way and shattered or snapped in halves.

The stew consisted of spicy auburn broth, little chunks of beef, carrots and cabbage and other greens she didn't pay attention to. It probably would have been easier to eat her vegetables first, as she was hungry enough to eat anything, but she didn't. Much to her dismay, the majority of the stew was vegetation.

Gertrude tsked. "Do you not know to eat as a lady?"

Judy realized the delicate habits her mother had drilled into her had failed to materialize this meal, and she was consuming her breakfast as if she were imitating her brothers, or her father's hounds.

"Excuse me." she mumbled, picking up her fork. It took thrice the amount of time to get the stuff into her mouth using a utensil, but she was under Samuel's roof, and she had to follow the mistress of the house's rules.

When they were finished- Gertrude had commented on Victor's nails (offered to help 'fix' them) which Victor declined with a scowl- Gertrude told them to stay put at the dining table, rushing behind a door around a hallway in the off-white farmhouse. When she emerged not a few minutes later, in her arms were two tunics, a pair of dark trousers and a skirt.

Victor, in his black overcoat and white-collared shirt didn't need an extra set of clothing. Jimmy and Judy-

"We'll need you out of your nightclothes if you're going to be helping us around the farm."

Victor shot his siblings an exasperated look at this when Gertrude wasn't looking.

So Jimmy and Victor stayed in the living room as Judy changed in the hall closet. She wedged her night gown, her two diamond hair pins (she originally had three, but the third must have became loose) and her jeweled earrings behind a chest of drawers, promising to fetch them later, as a reminder of what she still considered home.

She shut the closet door behind her in her new skirt and tunic that were considerably more pleasant to be in than her usual fancy gowns, but less luxurious in the comparison of appearance. Gertrude wasn't present in the room, so Judy gathered Jimmy's dull red robes sprawled carelessly on the cushioned armchair and folded them quickly, dashing back into the closet to shove them behind the drawers.

Victor sighed when she came back. "If you hoard everything, you'll never be able to let things go."

Judy frowned. "I don't hoard."

"You do sometimes, actually." teased Jimmy.

Judy stuck her tongue at her twin, but it quickly darted back in her mouth as Gertrude appeared and indicated them to follow her as they made their way around the farmhouse, back to the stables.

"You three have parents?"

"No," Victor shook his head. "It's just us."

She raised an eyebrow, an action Judy wished she could do, but couldn't, no matter how much effort Jimmy put into teaching her. "You're runaways then?" Judy caught an undertone of wariness.

Victor shook his head again. "Our- parents were murdered, and we ran away." he answered vaguely.

Gertrude's eyes widened, though murder wasn't all that uncommon. She didn't ask about their family again.

They reentered the horse stables, the animals stomping their hooves and emitting skittish noises. There was a single person occupying the building before them, a lanky boy with hair the color of straw, grooming a mare with specks of white on its rump. He looked to be of Victor's age.

He had the horse's bent foreleg between his knees as he crouched slightly, the hoof cupped in one hand as he picked off dirt with a metal hook. He turned his head when he heard their footsteps, and placed the horse's toe back on the ground as he stood. The boy smiled at Gertrude. "Ma'am."

"Michael." Gertrude greeted with a nod. "This is William, and Logan. They'll be helping you tend to the horses."

Judy couldn't suppress a smile at the alarmed expression on Victor's face and the apprehension on Jimmy's.

"It's a pleasure meeting you." Michael said politely.

Judy felt an abrupt bout of shyness sweep over her as she met Michael's eyes. They were of the brightest blue she'd ever seen.

"I'm Michael," he told Judy.

"J- Mary." she mumbled, wondering whatever was turning her brain into syrup, and her tongue into a rock.

He smiled- she'd never seen teeth so straight- and she tried to avoid looking directly at him, or she would blush harder or say or do something she would agonize over later. Turning to the horse behind him, he patted her shoulder. "This is Burst of Stardust." he said proudly to Judy's two brothers. "I was just preparing to shoe her. You two have much experience in replacing a horseshoe?" They didn't. "It's simple, really; I'll show you…"

Gertrude placed her hand on Judy's upper back, Judy relieved and disappointed that they weren't spending more time with Michael, as she lead the two out of the horse stables. And then, Judy felt a moment of panic as she realized she just left her brothers back there, and put herself in the hands of a woman she met less than two hours ago.

Maybe her expression betrayed her thoughts, because Gertrude reassured her, "You won't be doing anything too strenuous today. We'll be sewing, and you can feed the chickens later."

Sewing. Judy was proficient at that.

They entered the living room. "Mabel's feeding the chickens now, but she'll be here." Gertrude said, pulling a large wooden chest from under the bureau, and opening it to reveal baby clothes, tattered tunics, spare fabrics and sweaters too small for even Judy to wear comfortably, along with spools of colored thread and needles. "Winter's approaching, and we have only so long until the frost starts to bite."

The older woman handed her a dull gray sweater, and told her she wanted it a hat. "You know to sew, do you not?"

Judy quickly nodded, seating herself on the side chair. "Of course."

And she quickly found herself in the relaxing process of weaving in, out and back again. A half an hour later- Judy lost track of the time- Mabel skipped through the doors and Gertrude introduced them. Mabel thought it was funny their names matched, like they could be sisters, albeit she was running away in terror from her family back in the stables. Mabel was friendly and cheerful in an irritating way, as she and Gertrude chatted about husbands and potential husbands and the army and men. It's all the same; mused Judy as she listened without comment, the only difference is their social rankings and amounts of money. Occasionally, they would attempt to coax Judy into the conversation, but soon realized she wanted to be in the sidelines, and let her be.

Judy was teetering on the balance of disliking Mabel and accepting her as an acquaintance, until she commented on how 'handsome' Victor was.

They took a break for a snack of apples once, and then went back to sewing the old into new.

After Judy finished two hats and was working on leggings out of the sleeves of the sweater, she misjudged the distance between the index finger and the needle, pricking the digit. She felt the familiar sting, sharp enough that she knew she drew blood. Impulsively, she promptly stuck her finger between her lips.

Gertrude, noticing this, sighed. Crossing the room, she removed the thimble from her finger and handed it to Judy. "Use this."

Judy thanked her, and removed her finger from her mouth. Gertrude went back to the armchair, and continued her conversation with Mabel. Judy looked, but there wasn't a thimble on Gertrude's finger.

"Gertrude," Judy said when the conversation reached a suitable stopping point, "You haven't any protection from the needle, why won't you use those?" she gestured to the pile of porcelain of thimbles in the corner of the open chest.

Judy felt heat rise to her cheeks as the ladies chuckled at her ignorance. "Those are keepsakes." Mabel corrected. "They're gifts, and aren't for sewing, but Mother keeps them in there, for decoration, is my guess. Father uses them to measure gunpowder, though."

Judy never got a thimble as a gift, and couldn't imagine ever receiving one, but nodded in understanding. She was about to slip on the silver utensil, when she realized her finger had not a hole as she could see. She squeezed her digit, but no blood beaded out. She could've sworn she tasted the salty liquid when it was in her mouth….

Gertrude stood when the grandfather clock chimed seven times. "I do believe 'tis time for the chickens to feed."

"I-I've never had to feed chickens before," objected Judy sheepishly, hoping she didn't sound arrogant.

She only smiled. "Now that won't do. Mabel, why don't you show the dear how."

Mabel hopped from her seat and took Judy's hand, skipping out the door way and scampering down the porch steps, Judy almost tripping down the last.

They raced to the old barn, Judy going easy on Mabel as not to upset her.

The barn smelt mostly of wheat and butter, and she could hear the occasional skitter of a mouse's feet and chitter. She also spotted owl droppings and glanced to the ceiling for it. There was a lump of mud and straw and twigs, but it was vacant.

Once inside, Mabel picked up two tin pails and bent down, attempting to lift an almost-full sack of grain. Judy immediate went to help pour the buckets of the chicken feed.

"They like eating first thing in the morning," explained Mabel as they crossed the uneven terrain to the chicken coop. "So we fill the pails at night, and replace them at sunrise." She pointed to Judy's overflowing pail that spilled a bit of grain every time it bumped. "That's for the meat chickens. They need more exercise than the egg-laying ones, so you put that on the shelf."

Judy blinked in confusion. "Don't we need to spread it on the ground? So they don't fight over it?"

Mabel laughed, "No, they're pretty tame. It's the roosters that fight."

Judy nodded, and studied the two separate coops. They had a tall fence covering the perimeter and another to divide them, and the meat chickens had more outside than in, while the egg-laying chicken were mostly inside the shelter, but otherwise didn't look all that different. The chickens smelt of grain and corn and a little like her feet did when they spent all day in the same pair of shoes.

She watched as Mabel placed her pail in the center of the coop floor, picking up the quarter-full pail. The birds flocked to the bucket and stuck their heads in and out.

"If they're so hungry," Judy asked Mabel, "Why don't they finish that?" she gestured to the leftover grain.

"They only take what they like," answered Mabel with a shrug. "Fickle things, they are."

Judy ducked into the coop, grimacing as the birds scattered and flapped their wings to avoid her. She didn't understand this; they were fine with Mabel, one even let her stroke its feathers. She guessed it was because they weren't used to her scent. She set the full bucket and picked up the previous, near-empty container. The chickens didn't come near, only watched warily from afar.

Judy stepped off the ramp as Mabel frowned when the chickens gave the pail a wide berth- or as wide as they could in a tiny pen- and locked the gate. "Huh. They're usually friendly with all humans."

Judy knew Jimmy wasn't a human- no humans had those claws jutting out from between their knuckles like that. If her blood brother wasn't human, did that mean she wasn't either? Or did the animals just recognize Jimmy's scent on her?

Judy's sharp ears picked up the sound of a ringing cowbell. Mabel grinned, "That's the supper bell. C'mon, I'm hungry."

"Me, too."

They deposed of the chicken feed in the pig trough, and the containers by stopping at the barn before returning to the farmhouse. The hired harvesters had gone home, and Michael lived in the farmhouse, so the only ones at the table were Samuel- who didn't talk at all- and Michael, Mabel, Gertrude, Judy, Jimmy and Victor. And steak, which wasn't chopped up and in stew this time.

Mabel and Gertrude started to set the table. Judy went to help, but Samuel spoke in that alpha voice of his, "_Mary,_ why don't you go and feed the cats."

Judy was slightly confused, but she knew cats, and liked them, so she nodded obediently, ignoring the reappearing sourness of his scent.

"They're usually in the barn at this time," piped up Mabel.

Judy took the burlap sack of cow entrails from Gertrude and slipped out the doorway, smiling when she heard her brother's footsteps behind her.

Like the gentleman he was taught to be, Jimmy took the bag from her.

"The horses hate me." he mumbled, and Victor laughed.

"What do you mean?" asked a confused Judy.

"Jimmy tried to lift Stardust's leg and she kicked him." snickered Victor, and Jimmy rubbed the small of his back with a grimace as he relived the memory.

Judy's eyes widened in worry. "You're okay, though?"

"Fine," he reassured. "It doesn't even hurt anymore. Mike says I'm lucky Stardust didn't break any bones."

"We couldn't shoe the horses after that, they're too frightened of us," Victor added, proudly, though Judy couldn't imagine why.

"Then what did you do?"

"We tended to the collies and the sheep," replied her twin. "Their wool gets stuck on everything. And they stink."

"They hate us, too." Victor added with a roll of his eyes.

Judy sighed, a bit envious. "All I did was sew and feed the chickens."

"I don't see any cats," mused Jimmy as the three stood at the double-doorway. They waited a few minutes, but there wasn't a meow.

"I'm heading back," announced an impatient Victor, turning on his heel.

"Why don't we leave the food here, and maybe they'll come later?" Judy told Jimmy.

He nodded and upturned the burlap so the entrails flopped to the floor, nose wrinkling in disgust.

They started back, and Judy looked back over her shoulder, still hoping to catch a glimpse of the outdoor cat. No luck, but she did notice something just as interesting. "Wait!" she called, causing her brothers to stop.

"What?"

"Let's go see something first." Judy started running back to the direction of the barn, knowing they would follow. They passed the wooden structure, and didn't stop until they reached the highest hill in the pasture, the one at the nick of the farm territory, where they had the best view of the area and of the rich colors of the setting sun.

They sat, and they watched, and these were the last, most beautiful colors Judy would ever see.

Nearly half an hour later, they were speeding across the terrain, hungry for their steak and supper.

"Sorry," gasped Judy after the three barged through the open door, "We were watching the sun set."

She felt a jolt of surprise when she looked up; for once Mabel was not smiling, and Michael's luminous eyes were full of hostilely. Directed towards Judy.

She felt guilt tug at her. "I'm really sorry you had to wait so long-"

She cut off as Samuel held up his hand. "Eat, before the steak gets any colder."

Mabel shot up from her chair, came back with three mugs and went back for four more. She set the first three near the three siblings' plate, and the other four by Michael's and her family. She cleared her throat. "Fruit is mighty hard to come by at this time, but we still scavenged up what was left of the black and blue berries before the crows got them, and we used what we had stored."

"For the juice," added Gertrude. "A treat, for you three. For your hard work today, and for willing to learn new things."

The three said their thanks- but not Victor, even when Judy nudged him under the table the boy was still too proud, and at the farmers' expectant looks, the twins each took sips out of the mugs. It was too sweet for Judy, but it made her feel safe and warm and snug, though the drink was cold, and she wanted more. Before she knew it, her mug was empty.

"Any more?" she tried to ask, but her mouth had apparently grown fur and swelled in size, as she found it extremely difficult to pronounce the simplest of words.

It didn't matter anymore, though, because she felt so sluggish, as if she was dreaming, and her eyes burned and her eyelids drifted closed involuntary. She vaguely heard Victor's voice, but it was muffled, like he was speaking above and she was underwater. But sounded important, he was shouting and shaking her, and she attempted to rise, but the dream pulled her back under again, this time deeper, until the frantic voices faded away and there was silence.

**I would like to thank **_**princesslolitatheora654. **_**Though short, your encouraging review** **made my day! Shout out to you.**


	4. Caged Bird

The boy was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. He wouldn't have killed him otherwise. Did he cross the kitchen for a glass of water? A trip to the washroom, perhaps? The man didn't dwell on it, nor did he care. But he couldn't linger for long, and this boy's paces were much too slow.

Swiftly darting forward, he sunk his grooved incisors into the boy's neck. To keep him from screaming at the pain the venom would deliver, he clenched a hand around the boy's throat, allowing the blood drawn from the bite to drip through his fingers.

Leaving behind a modest trail wasn't his style, so after slitting the boy's stomach with a knife, he let the corpse fell limply to the ground in the center of the kitchen, near the base of the stove, rather than burying the body outside. They wouldn't be able to track him; he was virtually untraceable when he put his mind to it.

He pressed his bloody hand atop the step top stove, and crimson print remained as he lifted it. The symbol of a bloody murder. They wouldn't see it first glance, but it was all but impossible to miss.

Following the scent of his prey, he stalked to the family room, where the sweetly fresh scent of innocence and children intensified. A grandfather clock here, an abandoned thimble there, everything reflective glittering in the moonlight that shone through the window.

They were here.

He was close. At least, the twins were. His eldest son's trail was fainter. But that was fine; he knew Victor had befriended James, and all three of them in one place made the hunt that much easier. Thomas was almost disappointed. Then again, they had no idea he was coming.

Pinpointing the spoor to the paint-peeling door, he twisted the knob and yanked it open. Coats hang on the rack above and two large wooden chests sat on either side of the cramped space.

Besides the stables, this was where the strongest lead was. But the children clearly weren't here. Growling in frustration, he slammed his fist atop the chest. The wood planks snapped in a flurry of dust and splinters. Whatever was inside shattered and cracked.

The light caught a tiny sparkle within the collapsed chest; a subtle flicker that Thomas's eyes did not miss.

It was a hairpin, he realized as he examined it between two fingers. It looked like one of Elizabeth's, the diamonds arranged in the shape of a flower.

Shoving aside the mass of painted wood, he uncovered the pile of sloppily folded scarlet cloth. Under this was the mud-tipped gown.

They _knew _he was hunting them down. He'd underestimated them. They had left a false trail, attempting to throw him off.

Footsteps thundered through the rotting farmhouse. His cue to leave.

0*0*0

The jostling and the thud of her head against a wooden structure caused a shock of adrenaline to course through her veins as Judy opened her eyes. How long had she been asleep, or unconscious? This was the second time she had awoken. She recalled the hazy memory. The first was when she was being carried, she tried to squirm away or bite a hand, but was held down as bittersweet liquid burned her throat as it trickled down...

Her mouth was still a bit fuzzy, but she barely noticed this, for her jaws ached like something awful. Every tooth hurt as if they were plucked out. She felt them with her tongue, and was relieved to find them still intact. When she went to moisten her dry lips, she felt the cloth pressing at her mouth. She struggled to remember the events of the previous night- if it was the next day, the room she was in gave no hints of the time- and they tentatively returned.

The farmers- the Campbells was what they called their farm- had drugged their drinks, she realized with a pang of betrayal. And to think she was finally starting to battle her dislike for Mabel. But why? They seemed like trustworthy folks... unless the rumor of Thomas Logan's and John Howlett's murder had somehow reached the ears of the Campbells.

She groaned in frustration and self loathing behind her gag. How could she trust mere strangers so blindly? No, how could she trust _humans _so willingly? Every human they came across would shun or drop her in the dust when they found out about, well, anything and everything her siblings did wrong. She was not human, she decided. She was something more- or less- than the fearful things. But it wasn't just the humans, it was the animals as well. They avoided her and her brothers' predatory presences.

Inwardly kicking herself, she realized Victor was right to hesitate when the Campbells reached out to help.

She vowed to trust no one but her brothers from now on.

Judy took a breath through her nose, focusing on her senses. Her brothers' scent was strong, and near. She smelt wood, and blood and an undertone of grain. She could smell horses, sweat and the scent of washed clothing. She caught the distant fresh scent of trees and wildlife, the mustiness of the ground below and horse manure.

She could hear loud, even breaths of her unconscious brothers and their slow heartbeats- they were in the same vehicle, she thought with relief. She could hear the groaning of wheels on an axis and the thud of the rotating circles when they hit the ground after rolling over a rock or bump in the road. She heard the rhythmic thumps of horse hooves on dry soil, and the beasts' pants and shorts. Along with the animal heartbeats, she could hear a few softer, distinct ones of men.

She could feel her wrists rub against the rough rope that was tied too tight above her hands and ankles. The back of her fingers pressed against aged, splintered wood. Her head rested against the same wall, and she craned her neck to relieve the kinks. There was a third rope tightly wound above her elbows, pinning her arms to her sides. As her eyes adjusted, there appeared to be two unmoving forms before and next to her. The smaller one, whom she knew immediately as Jimmy was on his side to her right. Victor was before her, with his chin resting on his chest, his torso slumped forward. Soon, her eyes took in the right amount of light so she could see every fold of their clothing and the tiny gaps between the wood surrounding the tiny cabin that let in the twilight.

She attempted to move, but mobility was much limited. When she scooted her rump to the side to try to wake Victor, she only fell to the side, her shoulder landing hard on the adjacent wall. Growling, she tucked her knees to her chest, and rolled back to a sitting position, her legs tucked under her. The wagon jostled again, and she lost balance, straining the ropes around her as she fell atop Victor. The jarring movement caused her jaws together, delivering a fierce bout of pain. She groaned again, involuntarily.

Her older brother startled, waking immediately as Judy struggled to get off him. He attempted to push her off, only to find his hands were tied behind him. Muffled curses that were clear and audible to Judy caused her to blush as Victor squirmed and attempted to gain his mobility.

Judy rolled off her brother, kicking Jimmy awake in the process and she supported herself with a bent elbow. She struggled again with the ropes around her hands, trying to slip out, but alas, her hands were too wide.

Jimmy mumbled a sound that sounded like a question, as he rolled onto his back and came to. Victor ordered his brother to calm down as his heart rate rose.

"Judy, can you turn around?" Victor said, authority and confidence his tone, and not a hint of fear or worry.

Judy did as told, it took some time in the cramped space, but she was soon able to turn a full 180 degrees.

Victor studied the ropes that pinned her wrists together, and was about to turn around also, when the wall to her right fell open, the gloomy light pouring within.

There, two men stood, both carrying the stench of tobacco. They both had mean looking faces as they leered at the children. Victor leered right back, and they didn't like that.

"You'ren't s'posed to be awake." said the buff man gruffly, suspiciously.

"Must've not given them enough morphine," muttered the other. "Doesn't matter though, we're almost there." Louder, as if he expected them to hear this statement, "You're in no place to try anything."

They climbed into the wagon, tightened the confining ropes and forced the morphine down their throats. Victor put up the most struggle, but when the heavier man sat upon him, was less of a match.

The wall came back down, and darkness enveloped the three once again. Judy waited for her eyes to adjust, but when they did, everything was more blurred than before. She was grateful the pain in her jaw had lessened, though still wasn't comfortable. Her last thought as the drug pulled her captive into the depths of sleep was that she couldn't identify the colors her captors were wearing.

0*0*0

She was on a firm mattress when she came to. It smelt so strongly of hay and straw it only took a single whiff to realize her mattress was filled with it. She immediately jumped to her feet, ruffling her hair with one hand and her clothes with the other, feeling for fleas and ticks.

None decided to bite her, nor did she feel any, but she didn't know what they felt like, just heard stories. She couldn't be too careful, though, and decided not to touch that bed again.

It wasn't a bed, actually. Just a mattress on the floor. There were six more empty mattresses around her, in rows of two, with sheets littered with holes and the occasional pillow. They were the only objects in the dreary room, besides the window with rotting shutters. The walls were a filthy-gray white with dark mold at the wall bases and peeling paint. The cold wood floor was sticky and cold, causing Judy to wish she had some form of protection for her feet, even if it had to be those uncomfortable buckle shoes.

Deciding she wanted out of this sad little room with the lingering feel of hopelessness and the scent of sweat and tears, she reached for the rusty black doorknob, before receiving a glance at her skirts. Her dark gray skirts with lighter patches to cover the holes. She could have sworn the skirt was green, and the patches orange. She knew she wasn't losing her memory, because her skin was a white-gray, rather than its usual pink-tan.

Panicking, she studied the room again; white and gray. She opened the door, black and white hallways. A man's portrait; gray and white. All the rainbow colors she enjoyed before were bleached to a dark, washed-out world.

Her sight had deteriorated greatly… yet improved, she attempted to reason with the disappointment. The more she thought about it, she realized it was true. She could see every stroke of the brush in the painting, every sliver of wood in the floorboards, every strand of fabric in her tunic sleeve.

The sharp clicks of wood against wood sounded behind her. "Judith Howlett?"

She nodded out of habit, turning to a woman. Judy could see every flake of powder on her cheek, and although her lips were gray rather than cherry red, she could still observe every wrinkle in the skin.

"I'm, uh," she winced as her aching teeth clinked together. She didn't sound like herself, either. Her voice was scratchy and rough, like it was when Jimmy would wake her up and she'd tell him to go away; right when she submerged from unconsciousness. "Looking for my brothers." At the woman's confused look, she added, "James and Vic-"

A thundering of multiple pairs of feet thundered as she spoke, and she glanced to the staircase. Four young women, aging from fifteen to nine scrambled down the steps. All were in dingy bonnets, tunics and skirts, and Judy immediately recognized them as the maids and caretakers; the ones who would tidy her room, make her bed and empty the chamber pots.

"Madam Bellaire." They softly greeted in unison with their curtsies.

"Girls," Bellaire, introduced. "This is Judith."

They greeted her the same respectful way.

Judy wondered if she too would have to be rubbing the floor at a master's feet on her hands and knees in the near future. She prayed she wouldn't. But she was in the right outfit to do so.

"Now, where are you girls heading in such a rush?" Madam Bellaire asked disapprovingly.

"We- we were just off to Town's Square." mumbled the eldest ducking her head. The others followed suit. "Master Bellaire requested a cake from the bakery." she added, but not before inhaling a deep breath.

The scent of anxiety wafted around Judy's head, along with the wrongness of a lie. This girl was being dishonest with her mistress.

Madam Bellaire nodded. "Fair enough. Take Judith with you; show her around and whatnot."

The girls bobbed their heads, and two linked their arms through Judy's on either side of her, causing a feeling of uneasiness to wash through her.

She didn't want to go with them; she wanted to ask about her brothers and what happened and how she got here- why she was here. She wanted to find Victor and Jimmy. But the only trace of their scent was on her. She never realized how cold and lost she could feel without them.

As the girls led her through the hallways and out of sight of their superiors, the eldest of their group glanced over her shoulder to Judy. "I'm Caroline." I had a maid who called herself Caroline, but Judy didn't voice her thoughts aloud. "That's Sophia-" the short one with freckles and dark hair and a friendly smile that displayed a gap between her two front teeth. "Amelia-" the only girl who wasn't smiling glared at Judy. "And Polly." The chubby one with a bounce in her step. Determined to keep all their names in her head, she inwardly repeated them thrice more.

"Jud-Judith." Only her brothers were to call her Judy, she decided abruptly.

"We know," Amelia rolled her eyes like it was obvious, causing Judy's face to flush.

"It was only polite to-" she cut off when she realized she was speaking too quietly and too quickly for anyone to hear. "Never mind." she mumbled to herself.

The girls were distracted besides, running over to a carriage with a waiting coach and a stableboy fitting the harness on a horse. Sophia had unconsciously let go of Judy's elbow and was joining Caroline in convincing the coach to take them to Town's Square. Judy could smell the dishonesty, again.

"We're not getting cake." she whispered to Polly's ear as they hung back from the group.

Polly's face flushed in shame, and she tucked a strand of hair back into her bonnet in embarrassment of being caught lying to their mistress. "We are buying cake, act-actually." she stuttered. "Just-"

"Where are we going, really?" Judy pushed.

Polly smiled a little nervously. "Just don't tell Madam Bellaire, alright?"

"Tell her what?"

"Well…" she stalled, and Judy realized they were doing something they should be guilty for. Judy waited, and Polly hesitated. With her patience wearing thin, her jaw clenched, and with it came the jolt of pain. A high-pitched, somewhat satisfying growl emitted from Judy's throat when Polly still failed to speak.

Polly flinched, her eyes wide as she gazed fearfully at Judy. Taking a step back, she stuttered, "We're going to watch the burning of the devil's assassin." she whispered this quietly, but not too quietly for Judy's ears.

"Devil's assassin?" calmer, Judy's annoyance was replaced with confusion.

Polly relaxed some too. Nodding, "I've only seen one before. They tortured him into confession." she shuddered. "But Caroline wants to watch so…"

A sense of uneasiness chilled Judy's spine. "What did he do?"

Polly grimaced and turned around to grab Judy's hand and help her into the carriage. The coach shut the door behind her as she took her seat across Polly. "They say he possessed two and killed another two by hand."

"That's four people in two days," piped up Caroline, too cheerfully for a conversation of death. "So James Howlett will deserve his place in hell!"

**To ABewilderedBear: **I know right?Here's another (look up). Hypocritical, I know!


	5. Pointer Dog

"Exciting, isn't it?" the words finally broke through Judy's thoughts. Actually, not thoughts. Judy wasn't thinking at all; her mind blank as a slate. She'd learned about the brain in her studies, and giggled at the thought of an empty head that shattered like egg shells.

She had been smiling wide, or baring her teeth, so when she started to laugh hysterically, the other girls warily leaned away from her. That was okay, though. She was better than them; superior in her mind with an education that probably never received, and also physically, with her flourishing senses. She was above them all, so what did it matter? What mattered were her equals' and superiors' opinions.

"What's so funny?"

Amelia elbowed Caroline, rolling her eyes. "Her name! Judith Howlett! She probably shares blood with that James Howlett boy."

That placed an ice wall stretching for miles and miles between Judy and the other girls.

An uncomfortable silence caused the trip to seem so much longer than it should have been. Judy avoided their eyes, not because she ashamed to admit she was Jimmy's sister, but because she was afraid they'd see the struggle in her expression; the conflict in her eyes. When she thought about it, she never really had been able to see emotions in others' _eyes. _No, that only happened in the books. But she still didn't have the courage to look at them directly.

She would not allow herself to think about… her brother(s). Not until she earned herself some form of privacy. Emotions crossed her face far too often and dramatically, she knew this. If she were to mull over her present situation, she'd humiliate herself.

It was a lot harder to not care what the girls thought than to tell her she didn't.

She was so caught up in attempting to control her thoughts, until she imagined Jimmy's neck hyperextending and then bending at an angle that would cause that familiar glow to leave his dully colored eyes.

Finally, rocks settled in her stomach and deep into her chest until she couldn't breathe. She couldn't remember how. _Inhale. Inhale! _She did, but incorrectly, as the breath stuttered, and snorted. Her nose started to run and clog and burn, and she whimpered. If she weren't already seated, she probably would have collapsed.

If only she hadn't persuaded Victor to trust the Campbells. This entire nightmare would never have happened, and they'd be in the woods.

The forest; how much she'd rather be there. Making a house with Victor and Jimmy where no one would ever, ever find them, criticize them and turn away in disdain at Victor's nails or the three bones that slid from between Jimmy's knuckles. And when Jimmy and Victor would look at their hands, they wouldn't be disgusted or ashamed; they would be proud, like Judy was of them. They'd have long, happy lived in a cozy cabin near a river and have a variety of fresh foods right at their fingertips.

This picture lifted her spirits somewhat- the images in her mind had a tendency to become so vivid she could briefly convince herself it was real- until she opened her eyes into the claustrophobic cabin with tension making the room stuffy and hot, and the sparkling fall leaves gave way to a dull, gray world.

Black and gray made her sad.

Soon the rumbling and squeaking of the wooden wheels that were rolling them along, and the jingle of the horses' harnesses silenced, and the coachman helped the ladies out. The four girls marched across town, speaking into one another's ear in hushed voices Judy could hear over the din as if it were her ear the words were directed to. Judy trailed behind them, feeling awkward and out of place, weary of the crowds and shaking her head at the attention-seeking vendors.

She wished father were here with her, leading her through crowds and purchasing everything she ogled over.

And just like that, she couldn't breathe again.

She sat herself down against the wall of an unpopular shoe shop, the put her head in her hands, unable to keep her tears at bay.

Judy had received her name from her grandmother of many generations, Judith Quiney. Judith had a long tragic life, so when Judy researched her namesake, she had asked her father why he would name her after someone as such.

Her father had told her every time someone said her name, she should remember her own regrets and mistakes, and Judith's mistakes, then take care to avoid them, because Howletts didn't repeat wrongdoings.

This was why she wanted them to say "Judith" when she was around. This way, she could keep herself from forgetting.

The original Judith had lost her twin brother, Hamnet, to the plague, and then disappointed her father with her choice of a husband. And then discovered her husband had had his way with a pregnant mistress. Judith Quiney's firstborn died within his first six months, and was alive when her next two perished as well.

History was going to repeat, and _her_ twin brother would die prematurely as well, except this time of unjust reasons because she knew him, and his soul was pure and kind and everything a devil's assassin wasn't. She didn't know anything about the other three deaths that apparently took place around the same time, coincidentally where Jimmy had placed his footsteps, but Thomas Logan's death had been an accident; Jimmy had been in the wrong mind, blinded with rage of his 'father's' murder, and served justice where it was needed.

Jimmy wasn't supposed to die for an idle reason; from the day he had fell from a tree in attempt to keep up with her, she knew right away as he stood right back up even with a gash on his shin James Howlett was going to do big things. Jimmy was going to change the world someday, and Judy was going to stand back and cheer him on. It was determined, stubborn Jimmy who would shine like the sun; not irresolute, pliable Judy who found running away much more appealing than staying to fight. Wasn't that why she wasn't home now in the first place? Victor and Jimmy were chasing their destinies; she was running away.

She thought this situation would be so much easier if it was Victor being punished. Then she felt guilt weigh down her chest for letting this to even cross mind. She wanted Jimmy and Victor to switch places not because Victor was powerful and stronger, but because she loved Jimmy more. Granted, Jimmy was closer to Victor than she was, and though she could feel the bond between them stronger than what she had with her own mother, she didn't really _know _him. What was his favorite color? Did he prefer beef or chicken? Pork to fish?

This did nothing to ease the weights on her chest, and the more she thought about it, the emptier she felt. She wondered if she'd ever see them again, ever be able to get to know Victor better. In the past few days, she had somehow realized the world was bigger than she could ever imagine, and she didn't even travel as far as she would when she visited the farmers' markets with her parents.

Knowing the shopkeeper would order Judy off his property if he saw her, she hefted herself to her feet with more effort than it should have taken. Pressing her palms to her cheeks, she was surprised to find them dry. She hadn't shed a tear, because she couldn't. No crying in public, her mother would tell her, It will blemish your cheeks and swollen your eyes.

Of course, the girls she came with were out of sight, and for a brief moment, Judy wondered if she could run away again. Quickly dismissing the thought, she acknowledged the fact that she couldn't take drastic actions without her brothers and besides, albeit she had a vague pull towards the direction of her father's manor, she would face dire consequences if she tried to escape the mistress she now worked for as an orphan.

Orphaned. Judy never could have imagined her own name associated with that adjective.

She knew she didn't have parents anymore because if she had, she would have returned to her stepfather's- now mother's- manor, rather than whatever region she currently in. Had her mother disowned her? Or was Mother dead too? Judy wasn't sure which possibility she preferred.

Judy walked the streets, evading shop wagons and crowds, inhaling deeply; ignoring the stench of emotions and whatever anyone was advertising; searching for Jimmy's scent of herb medicine and straw. After all, if they're going to publicly hang him, they'd need to bring him out first, right? Hopefully hidden in a wagon that wasn't too heavily guarded.

Judy would not, could not live with herself if she just stood by as he died. She hated this hole eating at her insides, could not stand it any longer.

But the longer time went on, the more helpless she felt, and the more doubt began to nag at her. What if she had missed the execution? No, if Jimmy was dead, she was pretty sure she would have felt it. Deep inside her, like when he was badly sick, the pit of her stomach would feel painfully queasy. What if she did find him? Then what? She would be powerless against their guns and pitchforks, and Jimmy's claws could only kill one or two at a time. And she doubted Jimmy would have the ruthlessness in him to stab innocent bystanders.

She wandered about, briefly entering a couple public churches and even walked in a council debate that had a she thought smelt vaguely familiar (everyone was staring at her as her thin shoes loudly flopped on the marble floors- it was worse than tripping over the trimmed hem of a dress at a ball. Everyone here looked so serious). Jimmy wasn't there.

Feeling like she was walking in circles, she stepped aside as not to clog the narrow paths on the streets and kept herself from panicking. Where did religious executions take place? At the church or council building. She'd never been to an execution before; she'd only been in town a handful of times in life. Women mainly stayed home while the men went hunting and traveling. She remembered always working herself into an excited frenzy whenever her father took her places outside their territory; new experiences had always appealed to her. Now she had to ponder why they did. She certainly didn't feel brave as she did with her father.

But she had to focus on the task at hand. _Options: Sniff Jimmy out. Ask someone._

Of course. But these people seemed so rushed and were moving so quickly. And she didn't really enjoy talking to strangers.

As she stepped over the foyer to a glove maker's building, a wanted poster nailed to the door drew her eyes.

WANTED: JAMES HOWLETT, VICTOR CREED

200 GUINEAS REWARD JAMES HOWLETT

100 GUINEAS REWARD VICTOR CREED

Taking a step back, she decided to ask someone else.

Judy approached a seemly calmer woman admiring the dresses through a window with her daughter. "Excuse me? Miss?" Her jaws were no longer aching, she noted for the first time. But as she spoke, her tongue scraped against something sharp. For moment, blood coated the inside of her mouth, then was gone; without a trace when she swallowed. Judy would have found this strange, if the woman wasn't cringing away from her with fearful eyes as she turned her child away by the shoulders.

Judy didn't like the way the lady gazed at her, but yet, it filled her veins with a thrill that came with the impulse to chase the woman who was skittering away. She shook off the thought, disturbed at her abrupt urge to hunt and kill.

Impulsively, Judy turned to the window the mother was studying. It was a beautiful dress, a wide hem trimmed in dark silk, crossed with ribbons and elaborate flower and vine designs. As her eyes focused on the cloth, she could see the detailed craftsmanship and dedication the artist had penciled on this garment. She couldn't tell what the chosen color was, but guessed it was as vivid as the silk.

Her face reflected on the glass; the dark clouds had apparently shifted to allow the sun to shine in such an angle that gave her reflection much clarity as it would in a mirror.

Pressing against the corners of her bottom lip were two sharp-tipped canines, stark white and unmarried. They looked like Dracula's**(1)** teeth she'd seen as a sketch in book once. Judy pulled her lips back in a sneer that felt strange on her usually soft expression.

Her bottom canines, not as lengthy as the upper, jutted out and curved inwards, like miniature porcelain daggers. Her bottom molars and premolars were longer that the above, each tooth carved with purpose at the sides and caved inward at the middle. When she brought her jars together, they slid perfectly into place; the bottom canines gliding before the upper and said higher overlapping all the other white jewels. They all fit purposely, like puzzle pieces.

Knowing these were earning her strange glances, she pursued her lips until all were covered and turned away from the glass window. She wasn't at all horrified like that lady or Caroline and company, no, she was proud and curious at what she could do with them.

But she needed to focus on the task at hand. _Jimmy._

She prodded at the molars with her tongue, scraping the muscle more than once, drawing blood before it stopped. She never bled for long.

And then it was there. But then it disappeared as if it never were, concealed under the scent freshly baked bread. At first, she thought it was the doctor (that misled her twice) selling relaxing herbal medicine, but when she looked back, he still stood at the curb with his wooden lid of little sacks of meshed leaves and roots. The faint, familiar scent of her brother- which she would have missed if she wasn't so attentive to what her nose told her- had wafted from the opposite direction, and the doctor was downwind.

Judy sprinted towards its general direction, and then came to a standstill a couple yards later. She didn't want to miss it. Inhaling deeply, all she gathered were the immediate aromas near her. How strange this sight must have been, a girl sniffing the air as a hound would.

Not only did her nose feel as if it was coated in ice, she didn't find a trace in the air.

Maybe it had been her imagination, her mind playing tricks to ease the hopelessness. It felt real, though. However, sometimes she'd hear things that weren't real, probably recited from memory, which at times made it difficult to determine whether those barely-there, faint sounds were fragments of imagination or not. But never with her nose.

Her eyes were changing, though, so maybe her nose was too. It was all so confusing, albeit it was interesting to focus on a single object it would get larger and larger until it looked as if she were standing right by it. Judy would have played with the extent of her senses if not for her persistent impulse to find Jimmy because he _was _near.

Growing more frustrated by the minute, she went sit herself down out of the way, in the sticky alley between two buildings to mull over more options.

As she lowered herself to the gritty ground (maybe a few days ago she would have turned her nose at dirtying her petticoat in such a way, but now couldn't bring herself to care) scents intensified**(2)** and Jimmy's faint herbal spoor triggered a hunting impulse in her, and she was following the trail before she had even realized she had gotten up.

The trails lead her to a shrine at the border of the village, at which a meager crowd had formed, a group that included Caroline, Sophia, Amelia and Polly.

Judy would have kicked herself if she could. She also would have smacked herself for relying solely on her unreliable nose. She wished she wasn't acting so _stupid _as to attempt to arrive at the execution before the girls did, when she could have just _followed them._

Because she was too late. Too late!

They were already disposing of the body.

**(1): Dracula was published in 1897, but I'm going to keep it how it is. You can replace **Dracula **for **vampire** in your head.**

**(2): Cold air brings scent molecules downward. Fun fact for y'all (ya'll?). **

_**Alyssana**_**: **Thanks! I'm really happy you're enjoying the story, enough that you're willing to review. I'm sorry it took awhile to update.

**There aren't disclaimers because this is Fanfiction.** **However. All ideas that don't have to do with the movie are my own. I have yet to explore Fanfics similar to my own, so if the ideas are cliché, I don't have a right to say oops or sorry. **

**Judy (meaning her appearance, personality, mutation extensions, et cetera.) is based off an animal that may or may not become evident as the story drags on. You can guess though reviews and PMs. Entertain me. **


	6. Dead Dogs

**As I write this, I eat my own homemade trail mix that includes every yummy dry snack in the pantry (i.e. cereal w/dehydrated strawberries, almonds, cookies, M&M's, raisins). It's delicious. Here, try it *hands you a cup of tail mix through computer screen* **

Judy's gaze was fixed to the ground. She couldn't focus on anything else. The longer she stared, the more details defined themselves in the bark dust and soil. Then her fingers were clutching at it, clutching at the guilt that tore at her insides like hunger, eating at her from the inside out until she was but a shell.

Oh, but they weren't finished yet. Disappointment in herself, snatching away any belief in her own capabilities. Sorrow and longing, reaching for what was once there, and now wasn't- never would be.

And indignation too, somewhere in the pile of weights across her shoulders that had been taken from what was inside. Indignation at Jimmy, who had abandoned her in a world that was growing darker every day. It was irrational, but truer than the silvery sky that shone brilliantly as if to mock her.

Feeling eyes burn into her, she brought her weight to her weak knees and stumbled to the stone monument, seemly devoid of people. It felt as if no one else was around, and she felt even lonelier. To think she was griping about the color of her gown just three or four days ago. Back then, she was in the worst period of her life; wishing she were young again so she could play, rather than study, dress up and meet suitors. Now, there were so many variables in her life to complain about, if she could go back she'd never whine again.

Now, as she sat on her knees before the shrine, picking splinters from her palms, she regretted every game of Marbles or Jackstraws she denied Jimmy, every bark she snapped at him for idle reason, and all the times she supported her mother when he was being scolded.

For a split second, she knew what would happen before it did, and she wasn't sure how, but if she were stronger she might have had the reflexes to dash away; or if her nose weren't so clogged and the din ringing in her ears weren't so loud she could have avoided it. But she knew her limbs were too heavy as if the weights of her sorrow were actually physical, and it was likely she couldn't have gotten up anyway.

A large, calloused hand closed around both her jugular veins and cut off her cry. The force tilted her chin until she was staring at the malicious expression of Thomas Logan; his breath of the stench of metallic blood and his skin carrying the opposing fresh scent of soil.

And when he grinned in victory, his smile had the prominent dagger-like display as she did. Though at closer inspection, were different. Two darkly tipped canines curved inward on each side while the opposite row of teeth jutted out and overlapped the top; somewhat resembling pincers. Judy whimpered.

"Elizabeth loved you, you know that?" he mused. "Wanted you to be better than her."

The accusatory glare he pinned her with caused her to flinch. He talked about her mother as if Judy had done something terrible to her. Perhaps she did.

As his grasp tightened on her windpipe, Judy found it difficult to draw in air. She clawed at his forearm, but the hide was too thick and her chewed nails did little. "I know-" his tone strained, as if his words would affect him in a painful way. "Because she loved me, too."

Lov_ed. _ Was Elizabeth no longer alive? Judy wasn't sure if the ache in her throat was from her sire's grip or her suppressed tears anymore.

"She took her own life," continued Thomas, coincidentally answering her question. "I'm going to take yours."

_But you played a bigger hand in her death! _she protested, but she wouldn't have spoken this aloud even if she could speak. Thomas was supposed to be dead also; she saw the fatal wound with her own eyes! But if he was alive now, maybe he couldn't die, which meant the only life to blame and claim was her own.

She was going to die here, now, and no one would know what happened.

Apparently, Thomas wasn't yet finished, so she still had time to plan escape. Unfortunately, Judy had trouble thinking under pressure.

"If you're like me, or Victor, you won't stay dead." Thomas drawled, confirming her theory. His fist ceased the meager flow of oxygen she was receiving, and then Judy couldn't breathe. "But then, how will you heal without a head?" The man produced a nightmarish curved blade with his opposite hand, unsheathing it with a flourish.

Her lungs would burst before the blade would reach her face, and in a state of desperation as the details of Thomas's face began to blur, she twisted and snapped at his forearm. He evaded the assault, shifting his hand out of range and pressing his forearm to her neck instead. She took a grateful breath as the grip loosened. He half-dragged her behind the statue after studying his surroundings; now out of sight.

The cool breath of metal chilled her flesh as the knife replaced the limb bruising her neck and Thomas held her in place by wrapping his powerful arm around her torso. She squirmed, brushed against the cruelly sharp blade and felt the tingle of a single trickle of blood travel downwards.

Thomas tsked and slowly sawed; back and forth, back and forth. So agonizingly slowly. He relished the taunt whimpers, suppressed cries and tears that diluted the blood.

How had her life come to this? To depart from this world with a legacy that did more harm than good? To play such a small role in the world, and to die with no epic tale to tell, no romance or princes or true love? When had she truly lived in this lifetime? She had never been overseas or even out of Canada. And had she ever once told her family she loved them, or said a final goodbye to Jimmy and apologize?

Is this how her story would end, in the clutches of her kin departing her head from the rest of her body? In pain and in a pool of blood? ….But wasn't this how Jimmy had died? Or had his death been quick and painless. Maybe she'd ask him once she was on the other side.

With every swipe of the blade against her throat, the pain intensified until she could concentrate on nothing else. She couldn't feel how deep in it was, only that it hurt like nothing she'd ever felt before. And the blood pooled in her lungs until she was choking on it, hacking but unable to move or breathe. Finally, the pain eased, just slightly, but enough to make her groan in relief. However, she still couldn't exactly feel her feet and gritty hands, and her sight was starting to dim- actually, all her senses were, as if when they'd just reach the peak of their capabilities and was now lessening.

Thomas said something, laughed maybe, but she heard the sound like she was underwater… Victor was trying to wake her… The next time she would wake, she'd be tied up and facing Jimmy's death…

No. No, Jimmy wasn't going to die. Not twice, he didn't deserve that. It wasn't right. Being underwater, separated from everything she knew wasn't right, either. Determination. That's what she felt. To live, to love, to run. If only, if only she had one more chance. She'd make the most of her life then. She would grieve for Jimmy, always, but she would move on. Not forget him, but store him in her memory and prevent him from keeping her from truly living. What did it feel like, to truly live? Would it be emotional, or exhilarating? Would she be laughing, or would she be screaming from joy or torment? She wouldn't know, not if she died. The world was too good to leave! Too full of discoveries to be made, about herself and everything around. And did she have questions!

She lurched forward- her tormentor's grip had loosened as he guffawed- and the dagger slit her throat but she hardly felt it. A bushy hand grabbed her, and she bit it. She didn't expect her teeth to draw blood, as the skin was thick so her nails couldn't penetrate it, but her incisors and canines sunk into it easily, as if it were cheese.

She would have comped further if Thomas hadn't released her, or at least loosened his grip enough for her to escape- she wasn't fully aware of anything but her resolve to survive- but as soon as she could, she was tearing down the plane; the opposite direction of the hamlet.

Judy could feel Thomas on her trail, sprinting after her, and she willed her legs to carry her further, faster. Steadily, the world stopped swaying and grew in focus. Soon, she could clearly hear sire's footfalls thumping after her. She gasped her breaths; there was still too much blood clogging her pipes and confiscating the space where air should be, so she spit the blood that was in her mouth, but it helped none.

She felt herself slowing involuntarily, she had too little oxygen to breathe and her legs were lead weights. _No!_ She snapped. So she maintained her pace. But as Judy stumbled, she was roughly tackled to the solid ground. So close! So close was she to the pine trees that laid just ahead; still so far but she could have made it. Crying out in frustration, she thumped her fist to the grass below her. But the shout had taken too much air at once and she coughed and hacked until she regurgitated the blood in her lungs and whatever was previously in her stomach. It was a relief, but once again was she in death's claws.

"Pathetic, girl." cackled Thomas Logan, who sat atop her. Now she had no chance of getting away. "But you did inherit my abilities. Congratulations. Savor the power while you have it."

Judy didn't understand what the man meant; whatever was this lunatic babbling about? But she was in no position to worry about now. She struggled under his enormous weight to no avail.

There was a thud, and Thomas suddenly leapt off her. She rolled over to sit up, to find Jimmy with three bones the length of his forearms extended on each hand, one coated with blood. Thomas had his hand pressed to his shoulder and stood hunched over a mere few paces away, smirking.

Jimmy was alive! Judy wanted to run over and hug him, but now was not the time.

"How does it feel, son?" taunted Thomas Logan. "To have your heart stop and start again?"

To Judy's surprise, Jimmy answered honestly. "Like you're in a nightmare; you can't get on your feet no matter what." said Jimmy flatly, his voice hoarse.

Thomas nodded, and took a step forward. Jimmy in turn took a step back, eyeing the dagger.

"Don't trust me?" Thomas teased, laughter in his tone. He seemed to find the entire situation amusing.

"You tried to kill her." Jimmy's voice was still coldly emotionless, but he stood protectively before his sister. "Like you did our father."

Finally, Thomas's grin faded. His eyes narrowed. "He wasn't your father, boy."

"Maybe not, but neither are you."

Judy couldn't help but gape at her brother in surprise. Gone was the sweet, softhearted boy she grew up with, and what emerged was someone cold and scarred, one who resembled Victor, and admittingly, Thomas Logan. Well, the previous one; the aloof groundskeeper that she had come to know through Victor.

She wondered what had happened to cause this transition. Did it occur at the hanging, or when she just wasn't paying much attention? She was too afraid to ask.

Abruptly, Jimmy whirled around, his claws retracting as he did, and grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet in one smooth motion. They promptly ran, and didn't stop until they were both safe; deep in the woods. Even without daring a glance over her shoulder, she knew Thomas Logan hadn't made any attempt to pursue them, and she wondered why.

Both were panting like hounds at summer's peak, and Judy took a moment to look at him. He was still in the same clothes Gertrude had given him, except the rags were caked in filth; soil, grass and even what she presumed to be soot. Judy couldn't care less though, and had her arms around him in a heartbeat.

He embraced her back, but pulled away too soon. "You're covered in blood."

"You died!" Judy cried, and began to weep.

Jimmy rubbed her shoulder awkwardly. "I'm fine now, Judy." he offered lamely.

When she finally settled down, she answered, "But I saw them take you away. You were dead."

"I healed," Jimmy smiled sardonically. "Thomas Logan healed, and you healed." he pressed two fingers to her throat.

Judy placed her palm where Jimmy's fingers formerly were, and was mildly astonished to find the skin once broken was sealed as if there wasn't a wound at all. Blood still stained her tunic, and her flesh was sticky with it, but it was gone- scar, bruises and all.

"What happened?" it was whispered, but to Judy's ears, sounded as clear and loud as church bells. "After you healed?"

"There was fire. I ran, they chased after me. I heard your shout and followed it. When I got here, the townies were gone. And then I stabbed Logan, again." he explained briefly.

Jimmy spoke the truth, but Judy could tell she wasn't receiving the full story. He was clenching his jaw, and glaring at nothing, so she didn't question him.

"And you?" Jimmy met her eyes sternly, and she knew she wouldn't be able to lie, even if she tried. Jimmy had their mother's eyes. "How did you get to town? How did Logan find you?"

"I think he tracked me by our scents, I found you by yours," she responded as they hiked deeper into the forests. They felt vulnerable if they stayed put for an extended amount of time; Thomas could be eyeing his prey from a faraway tree this minute. "I woke up as an orphaned maid at the Bellaire Manor and rode to the village with the other girls; they wanted to see your execution." Judy made the decision not to call him 'devil's assassin,' for the way his lips pursed when she voiced 'execution,' he wasn't fond of reliving the moment. Again Judy wondered what had occurred to cause her brother to act this way. "Thomas Logan assaulted me at the shrine. And then you came." She also kept quiet about her colorblindness; Jimmy was troubled enough.

He nodded in satisfaction. "I woke up twice in that wagon: when you woke me and when they took Victor. He was first to go, they stopped at some factory, I think." Jimmy shook his head, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. When he dropped his arms, a ring of charcoal lingered, leaving him with the look of a raccoon. "It's all kind of fuzzy."

Judy nodded sympathetically. She could barely remember herself kicking Jimmy awake. "What did the factory look like? We can start our search there." There wasn't anything Judy wanted more than to have she and her brothers together again. It was evidently meant to be.

Jimmy sighed. "No, they were drugging me with that bitter stuff**(1)** and closing the doors before I could get a good look."

Victor would take more effort to follow than Jimmy; the only lead they had was a plant of sorts. "He must be some place between here and the Campbells'." Unless whomever was leading the wagon that conveyed the three went farther out to deliver Victor before turning back, but Judy was doubtful of this.

"We should head back to the farm, then." Jimmy agreed, though he didn't look thrilled; grim actually.

Judy understood; she didn't want to go back because that meant proceeding closer to home, and both her parents had perished there, creating a veil of darkness and despair in her mind when she thought of the Howlett manor. Who would be running the farm now? Certainly not the maids or the harvesters; they were much too timid. They didn't have any kin but Jimmy and Judy that could take John's or Elizabeth's place. Would the manor be shut down and used for other purposes, or taken up by another wealthy family? If so, Judy hoped another little girl would love and care for her plush animals and dolls as she did herself.

"Let's turn back; retrace our footsteps." Judy said, turning one-eighty degrees and picking up their scents easily.

"Wait." Jimmy fell into step with her, causing her to stop. "Logan could be waiting for us just beyond the bend."

"He isn't."

Jimmy blinked in surprise, not expecting her to go directly against his reasonable suggestion. "How do you know?"

"I just do." And she did. Nevermind the fact Thomas could have just chased after them when he had the chance, but Judy couldn't sense or smell him anywhere in range of assault, and with her every sense perked for the slightest trigger of danger, she knew she was right. Besides, she wouldn't have stated such a bold declaration of she had the slightest doubt.

Judy headed back the way they came, and Jimmy followed her, wary and doubtful. "Don't you think we should wait for Logan to leave; camp out for the night?"

Judy craned her neck to glance up through the canopy of pine needles trees. The gunmetal sky suggested afternoon, but the nights were growing longer, so Judy couldn't decide whether it was closer to post-midday or evening. Her stomach didn't have a craving; her core actually felt warm, as if her last meal was still digesting. Judy just shook her head. "If he were, we'd know." she inhaled a deep amount of the crisp atmosphere as they wound around a thick trunk. "We took a confusing path besides."

"You're smelling our way back!" Jimmy goggled at her.

She turned to him with a bemused expression. "Yes. Can't you?"

"No." Jimmy mimicked her actions. "I smell you. The rotting wood. Not where we put our feet."

"Well, you can follow our footprints, then." Judy gestured to the light dent in the underbrush.

They were at the point where the trees were sparse enough to see the town through when Jimmy stopped. "They'll recognize me."

Impulsively, Judy closed her eyes and focused on the indistinct pull to her left. That direction was south. Which meant the village was west, and to her right was north. "I know where we're going." she told her brother confidently.

Jimmy tilted his head and quirked an eyebrow, the expression she identified as he would humor her, but only because he hadn't any else to do. She'd show him.

They turned back and went deeper into the forest of pines. They weaved through tree trunks as silently as possible, which wasn't all that silent as every time her feet moved, a dead branch would snap or leaves would rustle.

When Judy approximated them far enough east, she proceeded north, estimating the length it took her to cross the hamlet.

In the middle of their journey around the settlements, Jimmy's stomach started growling. He didn't complain, or acknowledge it verbally. They both ignored it until thirst took toll and each breath scraped at their throats. Neither had packs or water containers, and any sign of water they abandoned at the village, so they couldn't do anything about it.

It was a silent competition; who could withstand the persistent yearn of resources and lead muscles the longest?

They had given up on covering their tracks and just tracked through the underbrush without caution. Judy kicked over a bed of leaves and an arachnid the size of her thumb with striped jointed legs scuttled across her toes. Gasping, she fell backwards in her haste to get away, her hand groping behind her to catch her fall and landing in wet, sticky goo.

She realized then they weren't the only inhabitants of these parts, and paid heed to every breath of a hidden creature, switching her focus from her nose to her ears. They made a slower pace because of this; once she finally had the valor to ignore her weariness of the tiny venomous creatures she enjoyed using her senses to experience and discover all sorts of hidden secrets to the wilderness. The sun was long gone by the time they reached their destination.

They found three wagons lingering at the border of the shops after the journey around the town ceased. With Jimmy's help, the two were able to pry open each one with minimal damage. Judy sniffed the interior of each one whilst Jimmy kept watch- virtually unnecessary as it seemed the entire village were asleep. She searched for any trace of her vague memory of the Bellaire manor, but found nothing at resembled it. However, they did steal an empty wineskin and a pack of dried meat. They devoured said jerky, which increased the thirst.

They found a pump near the base of a bakery and quenched themselves before filling the wineskin to the brim.

Another cluster of wagons were at the other side of town, but by the time they found them, Judy was getting antsy. She found herself glancing at the windows of shops, weary for lights to illuminate the darkness and the early risers to catch the twins in the act. She had no clue as to what the time was, and couldn't predict how soon dawn would appear.

The first wagon Judy studied was exactly what they were looking for; it smelt similar to Madam Bellaire's flowery perfume, as well as fruit and salt.

Judy checked the other wagons, and found only the first to have the characteristics that fit the Bellaire Manor. Perhaps the farm needed an extra stock of resources. They hid between two boxes; one of salt and meat, the other of ribbons and cloth.

Now, all there was to do was wait for the chauffeur to take them back to the manor. How would they escape the wagon when the time came, well, Judy was too tuckered to figure that out now that she was safe.

**Ugh, there's a **_**hair **_**in my trail mix...**

**(1) The kids can be drugged because their mutations aren't fully developed yet. Their healing factors aren't as effective as when they're fully grown. **

**I could have had the twins kill Thomas Logan and ended the story there, but I didn't! Anyway, here's the thing: I need to know if the philosophizing and the detailed descriptions and little dialog are driving you all away. Is the content of the story getting boring? I NEED TO KNOW! Don't be shy; tell me **tell me **tell me****!**

…

**Ermahgerd rerverws! Mah fravrit! **

_**Lizeyli, **_I'm thrilled! I'm also relieved that the writing sounds old-fashionedish. I was worried it was too modern at first, because I haven't been reading too many historical fiction books lately (there are so many addicting si-fi novels I must read _now_!) and writing styles tend to imprint in my brain even after I've finished the book.

_**Alyssana,**_I'm going to narrow down your choices and say nope and nope! Not a wolf, not a husky. They do fit the descriptions, though... But, Judy's previous lifestyle also has an impact on her personality and stuff (and maybe, genetics too), so everything about her isn't _totally _from said animal. :) Thanks again for reviewing again!

_**Nick,**_Wherever the story goes, I hope you're pleased with it.

**Thank you to everyone for reading, favoriting, following, reviewing. I acknowledge the value of every word or action of support.**


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